


hole in my soul (don't know how to fill it up)

by yoonoohs



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst and Humor, Gen, Recreational Drug Use, Supernatural Elements, everyone else is just mentioned, ily mark u precious weed boi, its just weed, jinyoungs only there for like .3 seconds, s/o to the everyone in the thot7 chat for this fjnhhh, this is short as hell lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonoohs/pseuds/yoonoohs
Summary: mark tuan dies at seventeen. he’s young and stupid, buying weed when he’s caught in the crossfire. his family and friends mourn but ultimetly, he’s nothing grand in the role of the universe.  jackson wang is 22 when he finds his dead best friend in his apartment.





	hole in my soul (don't know how to fill it up)

**Author's Note:**

> ok yall this was supposed to be a fun fic born out of a stupid joke but ??? oh no mark fuckin died 
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoy!! not beta read so pls tell me if u find anything llgndh tha n k

mark tuan is seventeen when he dies. he's young and stupid, buying weed in a shady corner of their tiny little town when the drive by happens and he's caught in the crossfire. he's buried in a quiet little cemetery under a looming birch tree, no grand memorial to commemorate his short, stupid stint at life. his parents and friends mourn him but in the grand scheme of it all he's nothing but a speck.

jackson wang is 22 when he finds his dead best friend standing in his apartment going through his video game shelf. 

he screams and reels back but mark just ignores his shouts and keeps browsing through his games. “damn, gaga, you still have this?” mark - or well, what seems like mark - asks, pointing at an old copy of gta mark had given him for his 16th he had never had the heart to throw out or hide. jackson stares back, eyes wide and disbelieving. 

“what?” he asks dumbly. he tries to form words but all that comes out is sputters and confused little noises. they seem to amuse mark however, judging from his almost unnoticeable little smirk. this seems to jumpstart his brain to life because next thing he knows he’s running to his friend for a hug. instead of flesh and bone and stupid green legalize it hoodie (it’s especially stupid, considering this is california and weed has been legal for a few years now. of course, mark is, was, dead when that happened but. details) the only thing his fingers reach is air. jackson frowns in confusion and looks up at his friend. mark has that look on his face that, despite the years and mark’s now empty white eyes, jackson still recognizes as the one he makes when mark’s made a stupidly nice and self-sacrificing decision and not told anyone about it. “mark…?” he asks, mouth dry. 

“im sorry gaga. it was hard enough making it back, i couldn’t afford to stay any longer.” mark says, voice resigned and regretful and all those other bittersweet r words. he gives jackson a guilty little smile. “but i’m hoping i can stay here for a bit?” 

and he does.

mark becomes jackson’s own personal casper roommate. he glides through the rooms as quietly and almost unnoticeable as he did when he was alive, except now he can phase through walls and do all that other ghost shit jackson has yet to ask about. mark reads and watches tv and explores the apartment and jackson gets to see his best friend again, even if no one else can. 

they find that out when jackson invites their friends over for a movie night and no one seems to notice the dead person sitting on the edge of the couch laughing everytime someone in the movie died. “why didn’t you say anything to mark?’ he asks jinyoung while everyone else is gathering their stuff and getting ready to leave. Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “what?” he’s clearly confused and dread is starting to build inside jackson. he can see mark’s hopeful expression drop and suddenly jackson is overcome with enough rage he wants to shake jinyoung and jaebeom and youngjae and yugyeom and bambam and scream at them, ask them why, why didn’t they even say hi to their supposed best friend and almost brother, why couldn't they see him, don’t they know they’re breaking his heart? 

but jackson knows he can’t and instead he forces the rage down and swallows. “i mean,” he forces out, voice catching on his rage and bitterness and absolute despair. “you haven’t gone to visit mark’s grave with me in a while. i think mark misses us.” 

jinyoung’s expression softens and his eyes shine with enough remorse that jackson almost feels guilty for ever feeling mad. “we can visit him this weekend, jackson. yugyeom and bambam have been meaning to leave more flowers, i’m sure we can go with them.” jackson gives his friend a small smile and nods. “yeah, that’ll be nice. i’m sure mark will love that.” jinyoung gives him one last pat on the back before gathering everyone and heading out, leaving jackson and mark in silence. 

“mark,” jackson starts, choking up for reasons he’s not entirely sure of. when he turns to face his friend properly, he’s gone. jackson finds him hours later outside on the balcony. 

“where’d you go?” he asks quietly, staring at the back of his friend’s bleach blond head. mark hums and jackson says nothing about how his fingers curl and move up as if to place a joint between his lips only to stop halfway, falling and hanging limply at mark’s side again. 

“i went to see my grave.” he says finally, still ever the quiet one. jackson swallows. “bam and gyeom left me a rolled blunt, can you believe?” mark laughs, but there’s a telltale roughness in it that claws at jackson’s heart and rips up all the little parts that make it beat. “you’re our weed boy, ya know. our favorite stereotypical rich cali pothead.” he jokes softly, hoping to pull a laugh from his friend. it works and mark barks out a laugh, his stupid high pitch giggle bambam used to tease him over coarse with unshed tears. 

“gaga,” mark whispers once his giggles have died down and they've been sitting in an oddly comfortable silence for a while. “i miss getting high.” he whispers, choking on a sob. his hands are shaking and his empty eyes are scrunched shut. “i miss being able to play games with you and tickle bam and gyeom and i miss being alive, jackson!” 

he can only watch as his should-be-dead best friend cries, his own tears already on the brink of spilling. “i miss you being alive too,” he whispers, drowned out by mark’s harrowing hiccups and deep, ragged breaths in between sobs. 

***  
they don’t talk about it, don’t mention how mark will sometimes still reach for the remote or a joint that isn’t there. they don’t mention how jackson will spend sleepless nights trying to find anything and everything on mark’s condition. 

instead, they fall into their routine again. 

when jackson gets home from his shitty job, he and mark will settle into the couch to watch a movie and make fun of it like they used to. then sometimes jackson will indulge his friend and get high for old time’s sake, letting mark laugh and make fun of his inability to stay awake longer than two hours.

it’s during one of these sessions that jinyoung decides to pay him a visit. 

jackson opens the door completely fucking baked and grins widely. “hey, jinyoung!” he greets his friend cheerfully. “hey, mark, look! it’s jinyoungie!” mark's expression drops but jackson's too high up to care.

“jackson, mark isn't here anymore, you know that.” jinyoung says softly, placing a gentle hand on jackson's shoulder. he's clearly hurting but jackson's doesn't want to focus on anything negative, not tonight and not anymore. “sure he is! he's on my couch watching scream with me!” he grins and points to mark. mark stares back at him with his empty white eyes, tight frown on his face. 

“jackson, you know he can't see me.” he whispers, getting up and gliding towards his friend. “i know you're not so high you can't understand that.” 

“jackson, seriously, don't do that. not now, its been too long.” jinyoung’s voice is strained, pain bleeding through in every lilting syllable he manages to choke out. jackson hates it. 

“no! no, mark! he should be able to see you, i can see you!” he explodes. he knows, vaguely, he must look completely unhinged and reminiscent of what he was those first months after mark's death to jinyoung, but he doesn't care. his best friend is right fucking there. 

jinyoung pulls him closer, fingers phasing through mark's body as if he isn't even real. and maybe he isn't, jackson realizes, as he's sobbing into his friend's shoulder. maybe mark is just there because he'd been lonely and missing him so much these days.  
maybe mark is just another one of those delusions his therapist told him about after mark died. it made sense right? why was he the only one to see mark? why couldn't jaebeom or youngjae or jinyoung or yugyeom or bambam see him? 

jinyoung shushes him quietly, and jackson realizes he's been saying it all aloud. “it's okay, jackson. you're okay. we'll get you back with your therapist and mark will leave you alone. he'll go back to where he needs to be.” he murmurs softly. 

mark can only watch as jinyoung leads his best friend out the apartment. he phases through the locked door and watches jinyoung soothe his friend and lead him to his car and mark can't help but feel like this was finally coming to definitive halt. 

***  
jackson comes back to his apartment after a week and a half of staying at jinyoung and jaebeom’s place. he sighs quietly and looks around, heart in his throat, for mark. 

“mark?” he calls out, echoing in the large empty space of the living room. “mark, buddy? i wanna talk to you.” 

mark phases out of from balcony quietly, startling jackson when he speaks. “are you gonna go see your therapist about me?” he asks, fiddling with a loose thread on his hoodie. jackson nods slowly. “yeah. i appreciate you, but you're not real. you're just something i made up because i missed my best friend.” mark says nothing, just watches him with those completely blank eyes of his. eventually, he gives jackson a small nod and looks away. his fingers curl around an imaginary joint. 

“i’ll be gone before you know it, then.” he gives jackson a look he can only describe as defeat before he vanishes. his apartment is shrouded in a deafening silence.

***  
jackson goes to his appointments and takes his medication and each time he comes home to mark appearing less and less. he thinks he's getting better but there's a part of him that refuses to accept that mark really was just a delusion. he'll catch himself researching everything he can on ghosts and spirits sometimes late at night, and he sometimes spots what seems like mark watching him sadly from the corner of his eye. 

jackson stops researching eventually, and then before he knows it he only sees mark when he's tired and watching movies alone and halfway to passing out. 

mark will shake his head and whisper to him, persuade him to get up and get to his bed. “you're not real.” jackson will tell him as he stumbles to his feet, rubbing sleep out if his eyes. mark will smile a sad secretive little smile and shrug. “maybe.” he'll say. he'll make sure jackson is tucked in and comfortable before disappearing again. 

six months after the initial first sight of mark, jackson has stopped seeing him. he comes home from work and finds a rolled blunt outside on his balcony table, but finds nothing else. mark is gone and while he knows jinyoung and the rest of his friends and his therapist will be glad to hear it, jackson can't help the sob and the tears that escape him. he sits outside crying for what seems like an eternity before he calms down and goes back inside. he comes back with a lighter and puts the blunt between his lips. he takes a drag and makes a plan to visit mark's grave tomorrow. 

jackson wang is 22 when he dies. he's young and regretful, driving to the cemetery when a drunk driver crashes into him, and he dies instantly. he's buried in the same quiet cemetery he was meant to visit, next to his best friend under a looming birch tree. he has no big memorial either, nothing to show for his 22 years of existence other than a simple headstone. his friends and family mourn for a second time but in the grand scheme of it all, he's nothing but a speck. 

park jinyoung is 21 when finds a rolled blunt and an orange medicine bottle on his kitchen counter, a piece of paper with an apology written on it in two familiar handwritings next to them.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @stoner-mark or on twt @koalahoon uwu


End file.
